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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497410">Smoke, There's Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quwarichi/pseuds/quwarichi'>quwarichi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TheirLoveWasReal, MOTHERFUCKERS [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Noir, Bartender Dean Winchester, Detective Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Sort Of, TheirLoveWasReal, mentions of mobs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:01:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quwarichi/pseuds/quwarichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s been eyeing the guy with the five o’clock shadow for the past hour, wiping the same glass and probably not being the most subtle about checking him out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Part of #TheirLoveWasReal Day 4: Noir</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TheirLoveWasReal, MOTHERFUCKERS [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Their Love Was Real: a Destiel &amp; Saileen Fanworks Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Smoke, There's Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This challenge just makes me write things I want to turn into full-fledged fics later. This is an idea that ran away from me and two hours later, this is the result. My beta really helped me out with this one, so <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatorGirl2016/pseuds/GatorGirl2016">check her out</a> and give her love. Four more fics to go!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean’s been eyeing the guy with the five o’clock shadow for the past hour, wiping the same glass and probably not being the most subtle about checking him out. </p>
<p>The guy is ticking off all of Dean’s boxes with his sharp jaw and sex hair. Clothing choices aside (because seriously, who wears trenchcoats? They’re not in the freaking nineteen twenties) Dean deemed him a visually appealing specimen of the human male two minutes after Trenchcoat walked in.</p>
<p>And then Trenchcoat leaned over the bar and ordered scotch on the rocks, and woah, that <em> voice </em>.</p>
<p>Dean had nodded vaguely, too stunned to say anything, prepared the order, and slid it across the counter to Trench Coat’s outstretched hand. The man had thanked him and walked away to sit in a corner booth. </p>
<p>Dean is still staring at Trenchcoat when a voice behind him drawls, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Dean glares at the speaker, finally setting the glass down.</p>
<p>“Shut it Benny.”</p>
<p>Benny raises his drink in mock salute and chuckles. After a few moments, Dean risks another nervous glance in Trenchcoat’s direction. The man is consumed by the file he’s reading, staring at it with a frown and a clenched jaw. Another man, a tall bald guy with dark skin in a similar suit to Trenchcoat’s approaches the booth and taps on the tabletop. Trenchcoat lifts his gaze and nods, exchanging quiet words with Baldy before the man sits down and plucks Trenchcoat’s drink from his hand, finishing the glass in one go.</p>
<p>Dean immediately dislikes him. </p>
<p>Trenchcoat glares at Baldy, mouth moving like he’s telling him off. Baldy just laughs it up and waves in the direction of the bar. Trenchcoat’s gaze follows Baldy’s hands and moves to where, shit, Dean’s standing and staring. Their eyes meet and Dean’s first thought is <em> blue </em>. Even in the dim light of the bar, those eyes practically glow as they settle on Dean, and is Trenchcoat… checking him out?</p>
<p>Dean watches those baby blues sweep him up and down before the guy licks his lips and turns away. Yup, definitely checking him out. Dean’s night just got a hell of a lot better.</p>
<p>“Made a little friend, brother?”</p>
<p>Dean sets Benny’s new drink down with maybe a little more force than necessary. “Don’t be an ass.”</p>
<p>His friend evaluates Trenchcoat and Baldy. “Doesn’t seem all that friendly.”</p>
<p>“What do you know about being friendly?” Dean quips. “It’s literally your job to stand and look intimidating.”</p>
<p>“Or sit,” Benny winks cheekily.</p>
<p>“Ha-ha, fuck you.”</p>
<p>“You wish, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Pass, thanks.”</p>
<p>“Don’t know what you’re missin-”</p>
<p>“-Excuse me,” a voice behind Dean cuts in, and that damn voice sends shivers down his spine. Dean swallows, spinning around to see Trenchcoat leaning his forearms on the bar and looking at Dean with those deep blue eyes that feel like they can see into his freakin’ soul.</p>
<p>“Y- yeah,” Dean stammers, face bright red. Why does his throat feel dry all of a sudden? “What can I get you?”</p>
<p>“Another scotch on the rocks please, and red wine for my partner, if you have any,” Trenchcoat requests with a small smile. </p>
<p>Dean’s shoulders slump and he damn near pouts. So Baldy other there is Trenchcoat’s partner? He doesn’t know why he’s feeling disappointed, but damn if it doesn’t bother him. “Coming right up,” he says, a forced smile on his face. He sighs internally and gets to work. He can feel  Benny’s and Trenchcoat’s gazes on his back and does his best to ignore them. He slides the drinks over to Trenchcoat and attempts his usual bravado with a grin and a wink. “There you go man.”</p>
<p>Trenchcoat nods, face solemn. “Thank you.” Then he turns and walks back to his <em> partner </em>.</p>
<p>“Cheer up, cher, there are plenty of fish in the sea.”</p>
<p>“Why are you even here?” Dean spins to look at him. “Does Crowley know you’re here?”</p>
<p>“‘Course he does, he sent me.” Benny sets his glass down, business face on. “He needs you to deliver something for a patron that’ll be coming here tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Dean groans. “Again? Hasn’t the guy heard of Amazon Prime or something?”</p>
<p>“‘Fraid not,” Benny says, shrugging nonchalantly. “The package will be here before you come in. Just remember-”</p>
<p>“Be careful, don’t look inside, and all that crap,” Dean recites. “I’m not dumb Benny, this ain’t my first gig.”</p>
<p>Benny slaps a few bills on the counter.“Well then, that’s all I needed. See you later, cher.”</p>
<p>“Go to hell Benny,” Dean calls after him, no heat in his words. Benny throws his head back and laughs deeply as he disappears through the door and into the night.</p>
<p>“Ass,” Dean mutters, putting the bills in the tip jar and trying not to think of Crowley or anything else as fucked up as the man. God, he wants to go back home and sleep. Every time someone mentions Crowley to him, he gets agitated and paranoid. He drags a hand over his face to try and pull it together. He’s doing it for Sammy. Think about Sammy. </p>
<p>“I’d like to pay now.”</p>
<p>Dean nearly jumps out of his skin, not having heard the man approaching. Damn, someone needed to put a bell on the man because he had nearly given Dean a heart attack. Barely resisting the urge to glare at the man, heart thumping in his chest. “Dude, not cool.“ Trenchcoat merely blinks at him. “You scared the crap out of me. No, what were you saying?”</p>
<p>“The drinks, I’d like to pay for them.” Trenchcoat pulls out his wallet and drops a few bills on the counter. As Trenchcoat tucks his wallet back in his pocket, Dean gets a clear view of the badge on the guy’s belt.</p>
<p><em> Fuck </em>. This is bad, really bad. Almost as bad as that time Dean tried dating outside of Crowley’s “choice of quality women” and nearly got an innocent woman killed. Maybe worse.</p>
<p>Dean hopes to God that Trenchcoat can’t read his mind and that his face is devoid of all emotion by the time the man fixes his eyes on him again and nods.</p>
<p>“Have a good night.” Trenchcoat pauses and looks at Dean’s nametag. “Dean.”</p>
<p>“Uh, right.” Dean forces himself to quit panicking and plasters a smile on his face, saying, “you too, uh…”</p>
<p>“Castiel.”</p>
<p>Dean laughs. “That’s a mouthful.” He shakes his head, leaning forward on the counter and winking. “Have a good night, Cas.”</p>
<p>Cas blinks again and nods, face serious. He turns and walks away, his partner (and now Dean knows exactly what kind of partner, goddammit) long gone.</p>
<p>Well, <em> crap </em>.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Castiel pauses outside of the door, trying to erase the image of vibrant green eyes and a flirtatious grin.</p>
<p>“Well?” Uriel prompts him.</p>
<p>“It’s as we suspected,” Castiel answers, giving a sharp nod of his head. Oh, how he wishes they were wrong, but all the information they gathered tonight fits all their previous intel. “Crowley uses this bar as some sort of post office, and the bartender, Dean Winchester, is his postman.” </p>
<p>They’d heard Dean and the other man, Benny, say as much after Castiel planted a bug beneath the counter when he first ordered a drink. Dean seemed like a perfectly good person, yet he’s working for a man like Crowley, one of the most ruthless crime bosses in the city. Castiel doesn’t read people the best, and social cues are not his forte, but Dean has felt… warm. A truly warm and kind person, which made Castiel all the more confused as to why he’s working for Crowley.</p>
<p>As the lead detective on this case, he very well might find out.</p>
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